


six point nine six nine

by Pinkmanite



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Blow Jobs, Cannabis, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Recreational Drug Use, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-15 02:25:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16924773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pinkmanite/pseuds/Pinkmanite
Summary: "It's public knowledge that William Nylander's 4:20pm ET Saturday phone call shook things loose and got his deal done." -Sportsnet"Correction. I inadvertently transposed a couple of 6s and 9s. Nice, eh? The cap hit in the out years is $6.969M." -Bob McKenzieIn which Canada legalizes marijuana, Willy thinks he's funny, and Kyle is keen to celebrate a contract.(Yes, everything William Nylander does is completely deliberate, thank you for asking.)





	six point nine six nine

**Author's Note:**

> this boy is2g. 
> 
> well, this is my 69th visible fic on the archive and when life lines up so perfectly like that, you just have to pull a william nylander and take advantage of the clear opportunity 
> 
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

It gets a few chuckles around the internet, around the league, and Willy thinks that’s enough to make it worth it. Especially when he gets a _nice_ comment from Bob McKenzie, that’s always a nice touch.

He gracefully accepted every message, every text, crediting his bit of humor. It’s fun to explain in the groupchat, to tell his closest friends how exasperated it had made his agent, his dad, Kyle, even. It’s fun to show off the number, to get a good laugh.

But really, that wasn’t the ultimate goal here.

“You know you could’ve just said something,” Kyle says, breaking the comfortable silence. They’re wrapped up in Kyle’s bed with something Netflix happening on the TV. Willy’s been back for no more than twenty-four hours, and he’s been more than content to kick it up at Kyle’s place, take over his kitchen, and smash the entirety of his refrigerator.

Oh, and get stoned enough to significantly dent his stash, of course.

“About what?” Willy hums, playing dumb, the dab pen hanging tightly between his fingers. He absently rolls it back and forth between his pointer finger and thumb.

Kyle rolls his eyes, reaches out expectantly. “That shit doesn’t work on _me,_ come on, man.”

Willy takes another hit, long and deep, before he passes it over. “It’s not just for you,” he closes his eyes, breathes through it as the feeling go right into his head. “It’s funny.”

“Funny,” Kyle repeats, incredulous. He shakes his head but he takes another hit of his own, not as long as Willy’s, but nowhere near modest, either. He swallows the itch to cough. “I think,” he starts, but has to stop to inhale sharply. “I think it’s more dramatic.”

Willy thinks that over, and it maybe takes a second longer than it should, be he eventually shrugs. “I like dramatic."

“That’s because you _are_ dramatic,” Kyle mumbles, going in on another hit. He passes it to Willy before he’s finished exhaling, the thin cloud of it still leaving his lips.

“I am,” Willy agrees, nods enthusiastically when he takes the pen back. He doesn’t hit it yet, just holds it while readjusts. When he’s satisfied, he’s practically on top of Kyle, curled into his side and nudging Kyle’s arm until he gets the message and wraps it over Willy’s shoulders. Only then does Willy take his next hit, laughs when he blows it out in the general direction of Kyle’s face.

“Dick,” Kyle turns his face away, but he holds Willy closer.

It’s enough to earn a laugh from Willy, obnoxious but bright, perhaps just a little too proud of himself. “Come on, babe,” Willy goads him. “It’s funny, say it’s funny.”

Usually, Kyle probably wouldn’t indulge like this. But for now, he relaxes back into the bed, lets it take most of his weight. “Okay, it’s kind of funny.”

But that’s not enough for Willy, who pokes him in the rib repeatedly. “Not kind of.”

Rolling his eyes, Kyle looks down until he’s facing Willy dead on. “It’s funny,” he says, completely straight-faced.

That definitely gets Willy laughing, the real, full kind now. He leans up until their lips meet, kisses Kyle softly. “Thanks babe.” He scoots even closer, now truly tangled up in Kyle and mostly leaning up on his chest. “Here, let’s share.”

Willy takes another long drag, even longer this time. He holds it, lifts his chin quickly and looks to Kyle in prompt. Kyle doesn’t make him wait long, he cranes his neck until they close the distance, tilts his head and locks their lips together. Willy keeps the suction wet and tight, expertly shotguns the hit to Kyle.

He watches as Kyle inhales it, holds it in his lungs, before steadily letting it out in a thin wisp. Kyle catches him staring then, catches his eye. But Willy doesn’t have a chance to say anything about it, because Kyle’s hand flies up to hold his jaw, tip him in again.

They kiss like that, long and slow and lazy. Kyle takes his time with it, slowly opening Willy up with his tongue, working his way until he can trace every inch of the inside of Willy’s mouth. Relaxed, pliant, in Kyle’s hands, Willy lets him, leans into it and makes space to let Kyle take him apart.

When they finally manage to part, panting for air, Kyle traces Willy’s arm in light touches, all the way down to his hand. He leans into his ear, “hand me the pen, babe.”

Willy presses it into Kyle’s palm, watches as Kyle switches it off and sets it carefully in a box on the nightstand. When Kyle turns back to him he kisses him closed-mouthed once, then drops his free hand between Willy’s legs.

He’s already half-hard, which tends to happen when he smokes up with Kyle, especially when they use the particularly expensive dabs Kyle likes to get from his favorite little boutique shop. It’s way too uptight and bougie for a weed hut, in Willy’s personal opinion, but he doesn’t complain all that much when they sell shit that makes him feel like _this._

“Mmm,” Kyle moans against his mouth, “I really do it for you, huh?” He grins, and he’s so close that Willy feels it more than he sees it. Amused, Willy goes for another kiss, sucks on Kyle’s lip, effectively shutting him up.

This time, Kyle gets his hand in Willy’s boxers, isn’t shy about stroking him languidly, tempo matched to their lazy kisses. It goes on like that, Willy tucked in close, hands wandering under Kyle’s shirt and Kyle stroking him off. It’s a while before Kyle pauses, nips playfully at his ear and whispers against his skin. “What do you want, baby? How do you want it?”

Willy takes his time, breathes against Kyle’s chest, once, twice. “Come on, you know,” he mumbles, muffled against Kyle’s shirt.

But Kyle won’t have that. It’s a bit of a weird angle, but Kyle uses the hand wrapped around Willy to thread his fingers in his hair. It’s gentle, but he guides his head back, away from his chest just enough to keep Willy from hiding in it.

“Tell me, babe,” Kyle prompts again, gentle.

Willy whines, pleads with his eyes for a split second before accepting his fate. “You know, I wanna blow you, and,” he pauses, clears his throat, “I want you to, to, _you know,_ too.”

“Oh?” Kyle keeps pushing. “And what’s that?”

Huffing, Willy relaxes into Kyle again, but doesn’t try to hide his face. “Six point nine six nine million, Ky.” He gets closer, if it’s even possible. Then all in a rush, quiet and breathy but absolutely sure, “sixty nine, come on.”

Kyle breathes in through his nose, audible, and Willy feels the rise of his chest. “Sure, babe, whatever you want.” Kyle shifts a little, pats Willy’s hip a couple of times. “Hey, get on hands and knees for me?”

Willy isn’t particularly keen on pulling away from Kyle, but the prospect of what he plans to do helps a little. But Kyle’s sweet little encouragements, barely audible whispers, and the way his hand tightens on his dick, well, that helps a lot.

It’s really settling, the floaty feeling in his head, the sweet lightness that comes with the high, so it’s a little clumsy when Will sits up and yanks his shirt over his head by the collar. Kyle helps him disentangle from it, carefully sets it on the ground.

His boxers are easier, and he shimmies them off with thumbs tucked under the elastic while Kyle sits up and pulls his own shirt off. He takes both articles of clothing and sets them down with Willy’s shirt.  

“Don’t be shy, babe,” Kyle hums, wiggling his own boxers off while Willy crawls into position. He rubs a hand down the bumps of Willy’s spine, firm enough to settle him where he wants him.

They fit together perfectly, Willy so close to Kyle’s leaking dick that the hot whisper of his breath ghosts over the sensitive flesh there, makes Kyle full-body shiver.

It spurs Willy on, enough for him to remember what exactly he’s set out to do. He braces himself with one forearm rested just to the side of Kyle’s thigh, licks a broad stripe up his free hand and uses it to grip Kyle at the base.

Steadying both himself and Kyle’s growing erection, Willy focuses on it and promptly take the head in his mouth. He sucks hard and fast, the way Kyle likes it, but takes care to tongue around the slit.

“Fuck, fuck,” Kyle sighs behind him. Willy feels him shift a little, and then feels his breath, just over his hole, feels Kyle speak before he hears him. “So good, baby, so fucking good.”

Willy doesn’t even fully process it, because Kyle doesn’t wait another second. He grabs a fistful of Willy’s ass and spreads it, grips his hip with the other, holds him steady and still. And then he gets right into it, gets his tongue right on his hole, swirls around the rim.

“Mmm,” Willy groans around Kyle’s dick. He almost pops off to curse, but he focuses very, very hard, focuses on keeping his mouth where it needs to be right now.

They still take their time with it, there’s no rush, just plenty of living in it, savoring every sensation, every feeling. Every movement and sound. They stick with it, focused on pulling the desperation out of each other, inching closer and closer to the edge.

At some point, Kyle gets both hands on Willys ass, spreads both cheeks as far as they’ll go, buries his face between them. He’s relentless, switching between licking over Willy’s entrance and pushing his tongue all the way in.

Willy keens when he does it, pushes back into it and tries to get him in as far as he can. He’s greedy for it, jaw going slack and losing himself in the pleasure, groaning uselessly around Kyle’s dick.

“Focus, baby,” Kyle whispers, lips brushing over Willy’s wet rim. He gets back to it, pokes around Willy’s entrance firm with with the tip of his tongue, teasing, not quite going in but dancing just around it.

Willy reciprocates by taking Kyle deeper, working him down just a little bit more with every bob of his head. He relaxes his throat, focusing on the floatiness in his head until it’s enough to really swallow Kyle down.

He pushes, even as he feels tears start to form at the corners of his eyes. He pushes until Kyle’s dick hits the back of his throat, until he can’t take Kyle any further. Breathing through his nose and focusing on the task at hand, Willy carefully swallows, lets the convulsions ripple around Kyle.

“Hah,” Kyle pants suddenly, a whoosh of warm air tingling along Willy’s ass. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Willy does it one more time, satisfied when he hears Kyle’s strangled whine, high and so out of his control. It’s all him, all natural. That’s what he does to Kyle, that’s the kind of thing he’s able to draw out of him. As Willy pulls back, until it’s just the tip resting on his bottom lip, he can’t help but feel a swell of pride.

Kyle must be proud, too, because he really starts to get into it now. He holds Willy firmer, doesn’t tease anymore, just drives his tongue in, in, in. His hands inch closer until his thumbs are at the rim, gently pulling it more and more open, getting deeper with his tongue.

Willy practically loses it, unable to do much other that keep Kyle’s tip just past his lips. He whines around it, high and breathy. It’s so much, feeling himself opening up under Kyle’s touch, of letting Kyle inside like this. But he loves it, craves the feeling, and pushes back into it, greedy for more.

Kyle indulges him, spoils him, even, and lets him grind into his face. He doesn’t let up, keeps up with his pace, even as he gets one hand around to grip Willy’s dick.

“Shit,” Willy curses over Kyle’s dick. “Please, oh my god, please.”

He can practically feel Kyle smirk against him, but it’s quick, only a moment, because he gets back to work, twice as hard. He holds Willy’s rim open with one thumb, still, pumps in and out with his tongue in time with pumping his cock in his big, strong hand.

It’s easy, like that, for Willy to come, nonsense falling from his lips while his mess gets all over Kyle’s chest, his stomach, and even a little on his thighs, on his dick, so close to Willy’s own face.

But despite it, Willy remembers he still has something to do. After a moment, he recollects himself as much as he can. His body is loose, as loose as his mind, now, so he slouches a little, lets himself settle until he’s pretty much sitting on Kyle’s chest, shamelessly straddling it.

Willy knows Kyle loves his ass, hopes he enjoys the view while he goes down again, gets his mouth back to work on Kyle’s dick.

Kyle keeps a hand on his ass, lazily kneading it while he works. Willy focuses on tuning into Kyle’s breaths, tuning into the shorter ones, the more desperate ones, every time he tongues a new pattern around the head.

He switches it up, bobs his head a few times, suckles at the head for a few moments in between. He continues with it until he feels Kyle’s hand squeeze a little harder, feels his breath starting to catch more often.

“That’s it, babe, I’m close, I’m close, just,” Kyle cuts off with a groan, low and throaty, when Willy takes him just a little deeper, “fuck, you’re perfect, your mouth is fucking perfect.”

Kyle’s words fuel him, so Willy goes faster, sucks harder and tighter, pumps the base with just a little more gusto.

“Willy, I’m gonna—”

“Mmm,” Willy hums around him, approving, hoping his point gets across. He pulls back until it’s just the tip, then sucks hard and cherry-stems right on the slit.

He’s ready for it, when Kyle keens and bucks up into it, releasing into his mouth. Willy tries to swallow it as best as he can, but he’s already so lost in it that he doesn’t get at all. A bit gets right on his face, some dribbles down his chin, but he stays with it until Kyle’s completely spent.

Kyle pants, absolutely breathless, from under him. Willy turns until he’s facing him again. He carefully slides one knee over until he’s on one side of him. Kyle gestures for him to come close, so Willy wipes the mess off his face with the back of his arm, the best that he can do, and then falls into the bed next to Kyle.

He’s immediately wrapped up in his embrace, strong arms pulling him in until his head is tucked under Kyle’s chin and an arm is wrapped protectively around his waist. Willy tangles a leg in Kyle’s, sighs when the legs move along helpfully until he’s satisfied.

“You’re so good for me,” Kyle whispers into his hair, fingers stroking through it gently. They soother his scalp, light scratches and soft pulls that untangle the unruly locks. “I don’t know what I did to deserve to you.”

Willy nuzzles in closer, presses his face into Kyle’s neck. He kisses there once, soft, then sucks just a little, not nearly enough to leave a mark, but enough to let him know he’s there. “You deserve me a million times over,” he hums sleepily, but more than content.

They stay like that — Kyle murmuring more sweet nothings and Willy pressing in as close as can be — until they eventually fall asleep tangled up in each other.  

  


 

**Author's Note:**

> twitter @[pinkmanite](http://www.twitter.com/pinkmanite/)


End file.
